Is It Fate?
by Frankies-Girl21
Summary: just a oneshot with a twist on Mel and Jim aka Sam's roadtrip in season4. this is from his Point of View.


**AN: oneshot for Ghost Whisperer. i was angry with this season so wrote about season4 lol. i have no idea how i was able to write this but am struggling on my other stories. that saddens me :(.**

anyway enjoy this & lemme know what you think.

_we'd talk all night about god and spaceships  
and little laika, the first in orbit  
and whether or not there might be life on mars_

it used to be easy then to dream  
it's getting harder and harder to believe in anything

**Sam's POV**:  
It was my turn to drive, seeing as Melinda drove all day. And it was a tough day at that. With that guy harrassing her, going to her mother's friend's wake (which I'm still curious about. There seemed to be more than she's saying), and me ending up in the hospital. And man, these weird memory flashes. I mean how could I have gotten shot?! When I came out of the coma the doctor said nothing of gunshot wounds. Maybe there's something to this 'past life' Eli mentioned. Which is weird in itself; Mel and her friends seem to be holding back something. Granted she's helped me be more myself than anyone has but still…there's something she's hiding. Especially with her helping all these random people. Maybe it was something she did with her husband. Yeah, maybe it's her way of coping. Delia did say they had something special…

And poor Melinda. She puts on a brave face and then I say something stupid that reminds her of Jim. I see her eyes mist over when she thinks about him but she tries to brush it off and say she's ok.

I noticed she'd been quiet for awhile and the music suddenly seemed to fill the void. "Is this music too loud for you?" I asked incase she wanted to rest while I drove. When no answer came I looked down.

Mel was leaned on the seat, her head propped on her hand and her beautiful eyes closed. She looked peaceful despite the uncomfortable posistion. I figured she was used to it though from her roadtrips with Jim. Keeping one hand on the wheel – I didn't want to risk an accident in this rain – I pulled my jacket over her shoulders. In the process, her head slipped to rest on my arm. I thought breifly of moving her but didn't have the heart so I just stroked her hair and returned to driving. After all, she needed the sleep.

I've noticed on a few occassions that Melinda hadn't been sleeping when she's home. There's been a few times when I can't sleep because of too many thoughts in my head that don't make sense so I would take a walk down the street. As I passed the house on my way out of the garage, I would see the livingroom light on. She'd pace around and I saw her hand go to her face as I watched her silloquette through the curtains. Mel was obviously crying. Those next mornings I would come in and she'd be hastily clearing blankets from the couch. Poor girl couldn't even sleep in their bedroom. I think that's why I've been avoiding my feelings for her.

I have no idea who I am yet the only thing I'm sure of is this connection I feel to the woman who wouldn't leave my bedside. How is that possible? But I haven't told her because she needs time to heal. Her husband just died a few weeks ago, it wouldn't be right.

As I think, I feel Mel start to shift, and a small whimper escaped her. "Jim, don't…," her voice broke. "Please not you…"

God, I read in the paper about Jim's death, and from what Delia told me it was tragic to say the least. He was shot and died right in front of Mel's eyes. Though I don't remember meeting him I know they were in love. He was all she had and vice versa. Anyone could see she wasn't the same and it wasn't just grief. They shared something; a secret or bond only they knew of.

"Shh Mel. It's ok, shh…" I soothed and after a moment she settled down. I sighed, watching as the rain cleared. I could do this. _We_ could do this. Mel would be helped – it would take time but she'll know she doesn't have to hold all the secrets in – and I'll remember who I am. And maybe, just maybe in the distant future, we'll be together and whole again.

"We'll make it," I whispered softly and tilted my head against hers.

_but baby i'm giving up on "meant to be"  
i'm starting to think that all of that is just pretty poetry_

chorus

there'd be no such thing as fate if it were up to me  
go and leave the future to its mystery  
we can make it

**THE END please review**


End file.
